TMNT: Seeing Red
by tmntpunx
Summary: 2k14 movie verse. The more time Raphael spends with April the more he wants to protect her. When April learns that he has crossed a line, Raphael is forced to confront his mistakes, and his feelings. Warnings: Sexual tension, angst, swears and voyeurism. RaphaelxApril.


April sunk into the pizza box couch. She leaned forward, struggling to regain her composure before any of the turtles saw the state she was in. But it was no use. The pizza couch was where good posture went to die.

It was Wednesday, or as it was now known in the lair, Pizza Night. The brothers were in the kitchen, swarming around a very large, very fragrant garbage pie pizza. Pepperoni, sausage, mushroom, onion, olive, spinach, artichoke hearts, fresh tomato. It was April's favorite pizza, but the brothers didn't seem to know what to make of it.

Donatello plucked an artichoke heart from the pizza with a pair of chopsticks and examined it the light. Michelangelo watched, mouth wide and slack, as as the link of warm, melty cheese that tethered the artichoke heart to the pie wiggled in the air. Raphael muttered something about Mikey waiting his turn. April shook her head with a smile. She wasn't about to get between the boys and a pizza.

"Hey April," came a calm, quiet voice.

The young woman looked up to see Leonardo standing above her. "Hey Leo," she tucked a strand of wavy auburn hair behind her ear. "No pizza for you?"

The turtle chuckled. "Not tonight. Smells good though." The turtle in blue paused. He opened his mouth as if to speak, but only closed it again. He rubbed the back of his head with his hand. "Ah, April - I was wondering if you might give me some advice."

April smiled and patted the spot on the couch next to her. Leonardo accepted her invitation, and his bamboo chest-plate clattered gently against his plastron as he sat. She looked up at him, her carefully manicured brows arching in interest. The turtle adjusted his bunching loin cloth and cleared his throat.

"Uh, how do you know -" Leonardo sighed. "How do you know if you're seeing someone who isn't good for you?"

April felt herself blink in surprise. "Oh, Leo, we've all been there." She thought she saw Leonardo flush. His cheeks were turning a particularly dark shade of green. "Well, I've been there, anyway," she said with a slight smile.

"Really?" Leonardo asked, his voice quiet.

"Yeah. More times than I'd care to admit," April nodded. "But that's why you date. To figure out what you want."

She glanced over to see Leonardo looking at the ground, clenching and unclenching his fists. She reached out, and placed her own hand over his. "I've dated my share of duds, Leo. I still haven't found the right one. I don't even know what the right one means." The turtle looked up at her. "But I do know if someone is hurting you, it's never worth it."

The turtle bit his lip as his head rocked back and forth in a slight nod. "Yeah. Thanks, April."

"Any time," she smiled.

A grunt came from behind them. April glanced over her shoulder to see Raphael towering over them from behind the couch, holding a paper plate sagging under the weight of an enormous pizza slice. "April. Pizza," he grumbled.

As April thanked Raphael and took the pizza, careful not to let it flop off the plate and into her lap (or worse, the floor), Leonardo stood and walked away.

"Leo! You gonna get in on this garbage pie?" Michelangelo licked cheese off one of his fingers.

Leonardo shook his head. "Not tonight, Mikey."

"But it's pizza night," Michelangelo said, sounding wounded. When Leonardo only shook his head again, the turtle in orange's eyes widened in disbelief. "Woah, dude. You need to reevaluate your priorities."

Before of his other brothers could comment on Leonardo's unusual behavior, he was gone. Michelangelo shrugged, and plopped down onto the couch next to April. Raphael settled in on the other side of her, and his younger brother wiggled his eyebrows. "You ready for this turtle sandwich, angelcakes?"

"I was born ready," April winked.

Raphael stiffened a little next to her. Her long dark lashes and those big blue eyes did something to him, but he wasn't about to admit it. He finished his slice in silence.

"That's what I like to hear!" Michelangelo cried, leaping up triumphantly with his empty plate. He walked backwards to the kitchen with eyes trained on Donatello. "You better not steal my spot, Donnie."

Donatello only shook his head, continuing to fuss with the DVD player. Ever since he had taken it apart and put it back together, the device had been less than cooperative. But they were supposed to watch a movie together tonight, so he soldiered on. The things he did for family.

"Do you think Leo's been acting weird lately?" Donatello asked, pushing the DVD player case back together with a snap.

"Yeah," Raphael grunted.

"I think he's seeing someone," April shrugged.

"WHAT!" Michelangelo jumped over the couch. Shortly thereafter, his plate fell into his lap, and the ninja turtle caught the three slices of pizza that followed on the plate without so much as a second glance. "O.M.G. You guys. Leo is totally catfishing someone," he exclaimed, eyes wide. "It's like, our duty to find her. And warn her. And _comfort _her."

"Shut up, Mikey," Raphael growled from the other end of the couch.

"I don't think it's really any of our business," April said, simply. She took one final bite of pizza crust and folded up her paper plate. Brushing her hands together to rid her fingers of the dry, gritty pizza crust dust, she looked up at the hulking turtle beside her. "Leonardo deserves his privacy, just like anyone else. Right, Raphael?"

Raphael shrugged his broad shoulders. April was still staring. He licked his lips, drawing his toothpick from one end of his mouth to the other. "If you say so."

The DVD player whirred to life, and the movie menu came up onscreen. Raphael hurriedly looked away, pretending to pay attention to whatever Donatello was putting on. April leaned back into the pizza couch and tucked her legs up underneath her as the opening credits started to roll.

As the end credits blinked off the screen, Michelangelo snored softly, his head resting on the arm of the couch. April had sunk dangerously deep into the pizza couch, and she wasn't sure if she was going to be able to get up. Her eyelids were heavy, but she knew if she rubbed them now she would just smear her makeup all over her face. She yawned, and then frowned. It was a long bike ride home from the lair.

"That would never happen," Raphael grumbled.

Donatello glanced over his shoulder from where he was sitting on the floor. "Neither would most science fiction, but I don't hear you complaining about that." Raphael crossed his arms over his plastron and rolled his eyes. "I mean, sound in space, for example. Who comes up with this garbage," the turtle in purple went on.

April pitched forward and off the couch. She stood and stretched; Raphael tensed as her shirt drew up, revealing her midriff. She had a small tattoo scrawled in black ink across her hip, but he couldn't quite make out what it said. The turtle bit down on his toothpick, hard.

"Walk me out?" She asked.

"Huh?" Raphael blinked.

"Walk me out," April repeated.

"Oh. Yeah. 'Course."

Raphael and April walked out of the lair; her heeled ankle booties clicked loudly against the sewer floor. As much as he always hated to see her go, he found himself looking forward to this part of her visits the most. The few, brief minutes they were alone together as he walked her out were only made sweeter by the fact that she never asked any of his other brothers to do so. Just him. The turtle glanced down to catch a glance of her. April opened her mouth wide and let out another yawn.

The two stopped when they came to her bicycle, parked below a ladder that led to one of many manholes within walking distance of the lair. Raphael swallowed as April fussed with her bike helmet. "You could stay, you know," he murmured. "If you're tired."

April looked up at him. Her blue eyes were brilliant even here, in the low-lit tunnels of the New York City sewer. "That's very sweet of you," she said, gently, "but I've got to be in the office early tomorrow morning."

"Alright," Raphael said, trying not to sound too dejected. "Well. Uh. Just so you know, you're welcome anytime." The turtle climbed up the ladder that led out of the sewer, pushing the manhole cover aside for her. When he dropped back down into the tunnel she was smiling at him. It was a perfectly innocent smile. She had probably done it without even thinking. _It doesn't mean anything_, Raphael told himself. Yet it validated him, somehow, knowing that he could make her smile.

"Thanks, Raph," April clipped the straps of her bicycle helmet together before ascending the ladder. He watched her climb the ladder, half in concern, wondering why she insisted on wearing those damn ankle booties down here, half in awe of how well those jeans suited her legs, and well, everything else. She made it up without incident, and he hoisted her bicycle over his shoulder as he followed.

April lifted the bicycle above ground and popped the kickstand, taking a moment to adjust herself and zip up her jacket before embarking on the ride home. Raphael poked his head out of the manhole, glancing furtively around the alley. They appeared to be alone. He glanced up at her. "Lemme know when you get home, ok?"

"Raphael. I've been a New Yorker my entire life!" Her voice was somehow simultaneously doting and exasperated. "I can take care of myself."

Raphael's brow creased beneath his bandana. "Humor me."

"If you insist," April said, with those kind blue eyes. "Good night, Red."

The turtle watched as she rode away into the night, while he lingered at the edge of the sewer. She had given him a nickname. _We all have nicknames_, he reminded himself as he landed in the tunnel below, the manhole clattering above him. _But this nickname is new_. Red. She had never called him that before. Somehow that made being down here while was up there a little more tolerable. His lips pressed together around his toothpick. _Don't even go there, Raphael_. He told himself. _Don't even go there._

He returned to the lair and wasted no time in making his way to the computer room, where Donatello was hunched before the towering wall of computer monitors and television screens. The turtle in red crossed his arms across his plastron and tapped his foot.

"You know she's not going to be home for at least a half an hour," Donatello said matter-of-factly. He continued to type, ignoring his brother's obvious agitation. "Maybe more, if she decides to take the subway. The trains don't come as frequently this late at night."

"I'll wait," Raphael replied, flatly.

Donatello sighed and brought up a new feed on the central screen. "Don't touch anything," the turtle in purple muttered, moving out of the way in order for his massive brother to take up the seat at the desk.

Raphael waved his hand dismissively. "Yeah, yeah."

After his brother had gone, Raphael leaned back in the computer chair he barely fit in. The screen before him showed a view of April's living room. Her roommate had left the lights on, so he could see everything from the back of the room to the front door. The camera was a a discreet model Donatello had plugged into a nondescript stuffed bear and left on a side-table. A nannycam. But it wasn't for watching, Raphael had explained. They were just watching out for her. That's how Raphael had convinced Donatello it was a good idea, anyway. Michelangelo was on board right away ("All April all the time, that's why I always say,"). Leonardo had been so distracted lately that he hardly noticed what his brothers did at all. It had taken the turtles weeks to find a time to leave it in the apartment; as it turned out, April's roommate didn't get out much.

Between drills, and meditation sessions, and meals, Raphael asked Donatello to turn the feed on more often than he probably should have. Donatello would roll his eyes, but made no other objections. Raphael wasn't the only one who wanted to ensure April's safety, after all.

Most of the time, the feed wasn't particularly interesting. April spent most of her time at work, or in transit. Occasionally Raphael would catch a glimpse of her returning home, her skin glistening with sweat after a long bike ride. The moments she spent in the living room were few and far between, but Raphael liked to watch anyway, hoping to catch her relaxing in those leggings she wore around the house on her days off. Mostly what came up was the roommate skyping with her mother, but the turtle didn't mind. Even when the feed was boring, he would still sit there and watch. It was still a window into April's life above ground.

So Raphael waited. His tongue flicked back and forth behind his lips, pushing his toothpick from one corner of his mouth to the other. Finally, the door on the screen rattled, and April pushed her bicycle into the apartment. The turtle let out a small sigh of relief.

April unsnapped her helmet, and ran her fingers through her hair. She slipped out of her signature yellow leather jacket, kicked off her boots, and glanced around the apartment. Raphael nearly swallowed his toothpick when he realized what she was doing. She was taking off her pants.

The turtle's eyes widened as she unbuttoned her jeans and began to slide them down over her hips. "Shit shit shit," he sputtered.

"What's wrong?" Donatello called from the common room.

"Nothin'!" Raphael insisted. She was still wiggling out of her jeans. He had always wondered how she got in and out of those damn things. They were so tight. Raphael swallowed. She was bent over, trying to kick them off at the ankles now. He could hear Donatello's footsteps approaching, so he did all he could think to do. He pressed the off button on the central monitor, and the screen went dark.

Donatello leaned around the doorway and glanced at his brother over the rim of his tortoise shell glasses. "What's wrong?"

"It ain't workin'," Raphael snapped, trying to pass off his flustered state as agitation.

"I thought you said everything was fine."

"Well now it ain't!" Raphael said, throwing up his hands.

Donatello let out a sigh of exasperation and gave the screen a cursory glance. "It isn't working because it isn't _on_." He pressed the button at the corner of the screen, and the picture came back into focus. "She come home yet?"

"That's what I'm tryin' to figure out!"

"Geez, Raph. Chill out," Donatello griped. "I'm sure she's fine."

By the time Raphael looked back to the screen, the living room lights had been turned off. April was gone.

The turtle sat in the computer chair, frowning. He had missed her. She was right there, and he had missed her. Just as he was really starting to stew, his shellphone beeped and a message flashed on the screen. "Hey Red. Home safe."

When he was sure Donatello was out of sight, Raphael allowed himself to smile.

The next morning Raphael blinked awake to the sound of voices. Womanly voices. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, careful not to lose the toothpick that clung tenuously to his dry lips. He had fallen asleep in the computer chair. The feed was still on, and April was running back and forth across the living room. Her roommate sat at the kitchen counter bar, seemingly enjoying her morning bowl of cereal.

"I'm going to be late!" April cried, turning over everything in sight in a desperate search for one of her shoes.

"Well, maybe if you didn't stay out so late all the time…" her roommate trailed off.

"Well, maybe if _you_ didn't let me sleep through my alarm," April muttered, stomping around the living room with only one shoe on.

"It's not my job to make sure you get up on time."

"What exactly is your job, Taylor?" Right. The roommate's name was Taylor. April didn't talk about her much, and Raphael could see why. In the living room, April bent over in front of the turtles' secret cam, presumably groping around under the couch for her missing shoe. "Oh. Right. You don't have one."

Raphael chuckled. _Good one, April._

April shot up, alarmingly close to the cam. "What the hell is this?" She snapped, pointing directly at the bear. Her finger was so close that Raphael could see her freshly painted green nails.

Her roommate shrugged. "I thought it was yours."

The journalist let out a dramatic sigh, blowing strands of errant hair out of her face as she did so. "This thing is definitely _not_ mine." She picked the bear up, and the feed got all sorts of shaky cam as she turned it over in her hands.

The turtle's eyes widened. "Oh shit."

Raphael could hear Donatello in the kitchen, tapping a spoon on the rim of his coffee cup. "Did you turn it off again?" his brother asked.

"Uh, Donnie, you better come see this-"

The bear flipped over abruptly, filling the screen with the livid face of April O'Neil. "Boys," she hissed, her brows knitting together furiously.

Donatello joined Raphael just in time to watch the feed fade into a blur. The bear was sailing out the apartment window and plummeting to the street below. The feed flickered a few times, revealing a taxicab wheel rolling dangerously close. The visual cut in and out, but the audio continued, conveying a sickening crunching sound. The screen went black after that.

The turtle in purple took a long, loud swig of coffee. "Told you we should have put it in that potted plant."

The brothers stood, not speaking, for some time after that. The silence was only periodically punctuated by Donatello slurping his coffee. When something crashed outside of the lair, Raphael's eyes widened. The turtle barreled out of the computer room, almost knocking Donatello over as he did so. He would explain. He had to explain. The turtle swore silently to himself as he exited the lair and slipped into the sewer.

Something rattled down length of the pipe. Raphael cringed at the thought of April's bicycle hitting the sewer floor. That thing looked expensive. He hoped the days of helping her bring it down when she came to visit weren't over. When Raphael reached their spot, April was standing there with furrowed brows and her full, pink lips drawn into a taut frown.

"But April - I thought, work," Raphael stammered.

"I took a personal day," April snapped. She gestured to herself, as if to indicate what a mess she was. "How could you do that to me, Raphael?"

"What makes you say it was me?" The turtle asked, bristling defensively. April only glowered at him. He sighed and hung his head. "It was me. But, let me explain - "

"No. Let me explain something to you, Raphael." April grabbed the edge of his plastron and pulled, bringing him down to her eye level. "I know you and your brothers are all new to this friends thing, but you need to know what you did was not ok. Watching me without my consent was not ok!"

She released him, pushing his chest back with all her anger fueled might. Shocked, Raphael teetered slightly backwards, but was quick to find his footing again. He cleared his throat and tried to center himself. "You're right," he said, quietly. "We just wanted to know that you were safe." The turtle looked to the ground and kicked his foot a little. "_I _just wanted to know you were safe. I'm sorry."

"You can't protect me all the time, Raphael!" April cried.

"Why not?" Raphael demanded. He that was an immature thing to say, but he didn't care. Yes, what he had done was wrong. But all he had wanted to do was know that she made it home safe every night. The turtle swallowed. No. That wasn't all he wanted. He wanted to be a part of her life; to be there when she got home at night. But that was never going to happen. The harsh line of a frown spread across Raphael's face.

The young woman shook her head, and waves of auburn hair spilled over her shoulders. As her hair fell, her scent filled the air between them. _Damn_. She even smelled pretty. Just as he was becoming lost in that sweet smell, her words brought him crashing back to reality.

"Because that's not how relationships work," April said somberly.

Raphael felt something sink in the pit of his stomach. Even if she had made him feel special with nicknames and text messages and stolen glances in empty alleyways in the middle of the night, she didn't think about him that way. He lived down here. She lived up there. He was still just a freak. And she didn't want him.

The turtle met April's gaze. There were tears welling at the corners of her eyes. A moment ago she was angry, but now she was just sad. It was a million times worse. Spending a lifetime contending with his personal, private, solitary pain was so much easier than standing here, now, with her looking at him like that. He could handle his own pain. It made him stronger. It made him fight harder. Stand taller. But the pained look on her face. This was too much; and it was all his fault.

"April, I am so sorry. So, so sorry," Raphael said ruefully. He took a deep, shaking breath. This was it. He had fucked up, and now it was over. There were going to be no more nicknames. No more text messages. No more fleeting moments alone. If this was the end, he wanted her to know. He needed her to know why he had been such a damned fool. "I just wanted to be a part of your life."

The turtle closed his eyes, reflexively gritting his teeth. He half expected her to slap him across the face. Or scream at him. Or cry. He knew deserved it, after what he had done, but he didn't know what he would do if she cried. Just the thought of tears rolling down her face sent a surge of self-loathing coursing through his entire being. He clenched his fists, bracing himself for what was to come. And then, he felt her hand on his.

"But you already are, Red," April said softly, looking up at him. "And you're one of the best parts."

Though Raphael stiffened at her touch, he felt his expression soften. Petrified she could see the heat rising in his face, he cast his eyes to the ground. She was so soft, and warm, and he was rough, and cold and standing there awkwardly looking at the ground, too afraid to say anything more. But still, she held his hand in hers.


End file.
